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when left unburied. Some of the bones are from old guests who were robbed and
had their throats cut by old Castle Masters; and then, being placed on the
dire square, they were likewise dumped at their death moment and had their
bones stripped."
"All Irish castles have mottos. What is the motto of this Casfie Cearnog
Ficheall, lawyer's assistant?"
"The motto of Castle Cearnog Ficheall is Cearnog Agus Cionn Mhord or
'Square and Above Board'. And yet with a different intonation and a different
viewpoint, that out of the eyes of a dead person on the stoney shore below the
Castle for instance, the motto could as well be Englished 'Och, That Square in
the Board Above!' and this would be in the tone of a warning. And now you must
be going if you're to be in time for supper at the Castle. But first we'll
gather the blood."
Out in the yard, the lawyer's assistant dew a small sackful of blood
from the cock. It stood still for the drawing, and then it crowed in a loud
voice.
The lawyer's assistant drew a second sackful of blood from the cock. It
stood still for the drawing, and then it crowed in a weak voice.
The lawyer's assistant drew a third sackful of blood from the cock. It
stood still for the drawing, and then it crowed in a sad and broken voice and
fell over dead.
"He'll be good for after-midnight supper tonight," the lawyer's
assistant said. "I love blooded rooster roasted on a spit. My mother will
pluck it and draw it and roast it and have it ready. I'll drive you to the
castle now. It's but twenty miles or thirty dlomeadgir. Och, it's no trouble.
I often drive that far in a single week."
The lawyer's assistant got Cris to the Castle at suppetime.
"How old are you, lawyer's assistant," Cris Kearny asked.
"I'm twenty-two this springtime, and everyone else in the world is
twenty-three," she said. "How ideal! I'll be back for you about midnight. Your
business at the Castle should be consummated by then."
Then she laughed, with a brogue.
Cristopher Kearny blew the burnished trumpet that was set into the front
door of Castle Cearnog Ficheall or Chess Squares Castle, and at the same time
he splatted one sack of the cock's blood on the same door as a specific
against misfortune coming to him within.
Then Midas Muldoon flung the door open, and Bridle and Midas greeted him
with great affection. Oh, they made big over him, and they showed him all
around the wonderful Castle. He saw everything that could be seen by
torchlight. Bridle even introduced him to three of the Castle Ghosts. These
were quite urbane and pleleaant entities and somewhat more at their ease than
were Midas and Bridie Muldoon. The Muldoons seemed to have just a touch of the
jitters.
And then it was no time at all till they were all sat down to a
wonderful supper in the Great Checkerboard Dining Hall. There is something
excessively black-and-whitish about the term 'checkerboard', but in the Dining
Hall it was not so. The great squares (each the dimension of the First Master
of the Castle and he had been a tall man) were royally colored. The white was
really a sort of golden ivory, and the black was really midnight ocean-blue
with touches of French Lilac and Royal Purple. And by the torchlight of the
Dining Hall (Irish Castles have electricity only in the bathrooms; it would be
a vulgar intrusion anywhere else) the effect was enchanting.
The courses of that supper were like a litany of the great dishes of
'Supper in Heaven': Gamecock, Rampant Ram, Truculent Trout (each trout glared
at one with angry and living eyes from the plate, but that could only have
been the effect of the torchlight), Gored Ox, Young Foal of Horse: what great
dishes they were on that supper table! There were seven sorts of brandy to go
with the seven courses, and seven little piles of snuff were on the serviette
at each place.
Seven brandies made each of them a little drunk and more than a little
effusive. There came the moment when Midas Muldoon insisted that he and
Cristopher should slash their forearms and mingle their blood and so become
blood brothers.
Cris was thankful that it was night as he worked his bloody deception
with the second sackful of blood. The outcome, of course, was that Midas
Muldoon became blood-brother of a cock that was two-and-a-half hours dead. Had
it been otherwise, the loath-some disease would have passed out of the blood
of Midas and into that of Cris as part of the deecing-and-entailment rite.
And then the supper was cleared away, and a checkerboard and more brandy
brought. And Midas suggested that they play checkers for moderately high
stakes and for the championship of America and Ireland and all Europe as well
as the Straits Settlements and Madagascar and Patagonia, which latter string
of titles Midas had won from Colin Kearny just one year before. Cris agreed,
but first (thankful again that they had naught but torchlight) he went to one
of the squares of the great checkerboard floor (the lawyer's assistant had
told him which one it would be) and dribbled a little blood from the third
sack on it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]